


Consequences

by Poetry



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetry/pseuds/Poetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, both Jack and the Doctor will have to face the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yamx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/gifts).



> Written for Yamx for the Help Haiti charity auction. Her prompt was "Jack annoys Nine and has to face the consequences." I admit my interpretation was a little ... off-kilter. Thanks to Malathyne for the beta.

Today, Jack has discovered the liquor stash in the TARDIS kitchen.

Jack is a happy man.

With all the confidence of the pleasantly drunk, he decides that now is the perfect time to rewire those silicon microarrays that need repairing. That same confidence makes him unaware of the fact that he's wiring them on backwards.

He hears footsteps on the grating, and looks up at the Doctor with a goofy grin. "Care to join me? I know you can't resist a session with my tools." The Doctor does something with his eyebrows that Jack recognizes even through the alcoholic fog in his brain. Those aren't the Amused Eyebrows. They're the Annoyed Eyebrows.

"Apparently you can't resist going at my TARDIS with a laser wrench after two bottles of Erismé rum." He pries the laser wrench from Jack's unresisting grasp. "Off to bed with you, Jack."

"No need to treat me like a teenager, Doc," Jack whines, his pout so reminiscent of a chastised 16 year old that the Doctor can't help but smirk.

"One day, Captain, I'm going to find you drunk off your arse in an alley somewhere, and I'll have to rescue you." He takes Jack gently by the elbow and steers him away from the console. "Then you'll be thanking me."

  
In the inner city of Nova Roma, in a dim, rain-swept alley, there is a man carrying two bundles under his dark coat. One is a loaf of bread, wrapped in several newspapers to keep it dry. The other is a bottle of cheap rum in a paper bag.

The overflowing dumpsters and storm-drenched gutters slowly stir as barefoot children emerge, drawn to the smell of fresh bread. The man divides up the loaf and distributes it to the children. They shiver in the rain and reek of trash, but they know they mean the world to this man who feeds them silently, never looking them in the eye.

He drinks a mouthful of rum, and the combined haze of drunkenness and rain makes him deaf to the footsteps that echo down the alley, sending the children scurrying. Suddenly, he feels a hand prying the bottle out of his grasp, then a crash as it's thrown against the alley wall. Before he can react, there's rain-soaked hair and cool lips on his face.

Still wrapped in the Doctor's embrace, he finds himself being pulled toward the TARDIS; the light spilling out from the half-open door seems like an accusation, somehow. When their mouths finally slide apart, Jack says raggedly, "You came back for me." He's not sure whether it's a blessing or curse, but either way, he knows it's what he deserves.


End file.
